The Purple Alien Prince's Pregnant Captive (Scifi Alien Secret Baby Romance): In the Stars Romance

by Celia Kyle

  The Purple Alien Prince’s Pregnant Captive

  In the Stars Romance

  Celia Kyle

  Erin Tate

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  About the Author

  Blurb

  One night with the delectable human female wasn’t enough for this alien prince…

  Baila spent one night with the sexy alien—over six feet of purple hotness—and now she’s paying the price. The cost? One great big (purple) alien bun in her very human oven. With no alien partner in sight, she’s determined to take care of herself—and her baby—on her own. Except, it’s hard to hold down a job as a sexy waitress with a huge stomach the color of grape Kool-Aid. Jobless and twenty-four hours from being evicted, she runs into the one person she never thought she’d see again…

  Zyriq Rukzahl—Captain of Warking’s Blade, Morean male, greatest lover of all time, baby daddy, and… kidnapper.

  Chapter 1

  Zyriq leaned to his right, elbow propped on the arm of his captain’s chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, eyes closed while he released another silent sigh. He prided himself in always remaining in control, but his ability to embrace calm was sorely tested this day.

  “You cannot kill him.” Chall—his longtime friend and second-in-command—stated the obvious, his voice low so the rest of the crew could not hear their conversation.

  “Are you certain?” Zyriq murmured in return. Images of ending the life of warrior-in-training Pach slid through his mind. He had come up with four hundred and fifty-six methods so far. He was sure he could think of more.

  The young male would try the patience of the Star Blessed Elders and those Moreans had perfected the art of serenity.

  “I believe it would injure your dam’s feelings should you murder her favorite nephew.” There was no missing the smile in Chall’s voice.

  Zyriq grunted but otherwise remained silent. If he spoke, it would be to order Pach ejected through the ship’s closest airlock. He could deal with his dam’s disapproval.

  “I do not understand, War Captain Zyriq.” Pach spoke again, his voice emitting a high-pitched crack at the end, and Zyriq winced. When would the male go through his final transition and cease attempting to burst Zyriq’s ears with his voice?

  “Once more, Pach—”

  “Warrior Pach,” Chall whispered and then snorted. “He shall remind you in three… two…”

  “By order of the queen, I am Warrior Pach, War Captain Zyriq.” As Chall predicted, the young one did correct him, and Zyriq thought up the four hundred and fifty seventh method of Pach’s death.

  “Warrior,” Zyriq drawled the word slowly, “Pach, please report the ship’s distance from Ark Station Zeta and the rate of approach.”

  “We will arrive in five human minutes,” Pach repeated the words that made Zyriq wish to strangle him. Again.

  “That does not tell me our distance from destination or our rate of approach, Warrior Pach.” Zyriq pushed the words past sharp, gritted teeth. If he recalled correctly, there was an airlock located two corridors south of the bridge.

  “What does it—”

  The beep of the communication station announced they were being hailed. Zyriq turned his attention to the comm warrior and tipped his head in a silent order. He could guess the identity of the caller with ease.

  “Warking’s Blade, this is Ark Station Zeta. Please state your intent. Your approach speed exceeds station laws. Failure to reply will be considered an act of war.” Then came a short pause and the message repeated. “Warking’s Blade, this is…”

  “War?” Pach snorted. “We should show them the strength of Morea and—”

  Zyriq had had enough of dealing with Pach. He refused to allow the young male ruin what had promised to be a pleasurable time on the station, his dam’s favorite nephew or not.

  “Chall, slow our approach. Drop us well below SMS.” Station maximum speed. A speed Pach obviously had not researched. Or the young male simply chose not to adhere to the laws.

  “What?” Pach squawked. “We should not give in to their ridiculous demands. We are superior—”

  Stars save him from idiot young ones.

  Zyriq ignored Pach. “Comms, send our apologies and assurance we are slowing our advance.” He fought for calm while he continued to issue orders. He raised his voice and spoke to the ship itself. “Blade, locate a bottle of Morea’s Fire and include it with our ship’s documents to be transported upon docking.”

  Zyriq had meant to enjoy that bottle with a certain, luscious female, but Pach’s behavior had consequences. And the ship’s captain was often the one on the front line to face those consequences. Though Pach would definitely reimburse Zyriq out of his own earnings. The young one had to learn his lesson somehow. Shouting had yet to result in promising behavior.

  “There is no reason to pander to the humans. They are inferior.” It was as if Pach looked forward to death by Zyriq’s hand. Because the more he spoke, the closer he edged to his demise.

  Zyriq might not get along with most humans, but there was a single reason he tolerated entering this area of space and it was not the human delicacy chah-coo-late his dam valued so greatly. No, he had a deeper, more pleasurable, cause for his presence on Ark Station Zeta. One that came in the delicious shape of Baila Dar’toren—curvaceous body, brown hair and eyes, and unblemished pale skin that glowed like a distant star.

  It had been many turnings since he’d last laid eyes on the small human female, but he could still taste her on his lips. Could still feel her silken hair slide between his fingers. Could still hear her cries of pleasure echoing around him.

  Baila was human—body so different from his own—but Zyriq believed her alienness did not detract from her perfection. It only added to her appeal.

  And he would soon have his hands on that perfectly appealing body.

  After he handled the mess Pach created through his own willful ignorance and destructive pride.

  Zyriq ignored Pach’s words and looked to Chall. “Now may I end his life?”

  He was only half joking.

  “Docking initiated.” The Blade’s digitized voice did not allow Chall to reply. “Brace locked, air pressure equalized. Documents and Morea’s Fire transported to station authorities. Awaiting Ark Station Zeta response.”

  If the young warrior had not injured their relations with the humans too badly, they would not have to wait long. If.

  “War Captain Zyriq…”

  Zyriq sighed. Perhaps he did not have to murder Pach. He could simply leave the young warrior behind when they departed. Yes, that was an excellent idea.

  “Warrior,” he sneered as the word left his lips, “Pach, you are ordered to remain silent until I grant you permission to speak. Am I understood?”

  “The queen—”

  “Is not on this ship.” Zyriq rose from his seat, heavy boots thudding against the metal flooring of the bridge. He slowly approached Pach, allowing the younger male ample time to fully see the one he challenged. And with Pach, every single word was a challenge to Zyriq’s authority.

  Zyriq knew what Pach saw—over six feet of Morean male, his features an
d coloring announcing his status. The more saturated the colors of their homeland, the stronger the Morean. Dark purple skin, even darker hair, and eyes the color of a Morea sky at midnight—he had honed his body to near perfection, constantly training and practicing his skills as a warrior. Warrior first, captain second. As for the rest of his titles… They did not matter to Zyriq. The strength and the protection of their home planet was above titles and position.

  Pach tipped his head back further and further with his approach, the male’s unwavering gaze locked on Zyriq. “But she—”

  “The entire ship is aware of her support. A queen’s word had you placed on Warking’s Blade and handed the title of warrior. That does not mean you deserve to be on Warking’s Blade nor do you have the knowledge and experience to be considered a warrior.” Zyriq was so tired of dealing with Pach that he finally spoke the blatant truth. He did not care about the repercussions of his behavior. His dam could force him to endure countless events to find him a bonded mate, yet speaking his mind would still be worth her brand of punishment.

  “I will—”

  “Is he about to state he will speak to the queen of your actions?” Chall drawled.

  “Yes,” Zyriq nodded. “I believe he is about to state that he will ‘rat me out’ to her.”

  “Rat you out?” Chall frowned at his captain.

  “A term taught to me by Baila.” Zyriq’s lips twitched, a slight smile tipping up the corners of his lips as his mind went to the human female.

  “Zyriq…” Pach growled his name and he decided he had tolerated Pach long enough. He refused to allow one annoying young one to ruin the days to come.

  Zyriq held up his hand, palm facing Pach. “Silence.” He hissed the word. “Effective immediately, you are relieved of duty. You may visit ASZ as you see fit provided you adhere to local laws and customs. You are granted access to common ship areas. We will discuss your behavior during our return trip to Morea. Is that understood?”

  Pach clenched his jaw, pale purple skin lightening with the tension in his muscles. The young male narrowed his eyes, anger evident in his stare. “Understood.”

  Yes, Pach was furious, but Zyriq did not care. Not when Baila was so near.

  The ship’s mechanical voice filled the air. “Warking’s Blade has been granted a seven-Earth-day approval to remain on station. Extension of approval to be requested of station manager and approved at his sole discretion. Ark Station Zeta alien processing is operational and ready to examine disembarking crew and passengers.”

  A great ball of tension rolled from Zyriq’s shoulders with those words. Baila was close. So close. He merely had to undergo the processing exam and then he would begin his hunt, though he doubted he would have to do much hunting. She would either be at her place of employment—the Bumfuck Egypt Bar—or in her quarters. He preferred to find her in her quarters. Then they would be near a bed and he would be one step closer to stripping her bare.

  Though, that assumed she would welcome him once again. He had not comm’ed since his departure two Earth months ago, but he was sure she had a pleasurable experience. She had screamed his name twenty-eight times.

  The more he thought of his situation, the more doubt crept into his gut. Suddenly the knowledge that she could have found another in the months he’d been gone attacked him. He clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists. Thoughts of Baila with another male—Morean or human—assaulted him and he fought the rising anger. He needed to get on the station—needed to find her—now.

  Zyriq raised his voice. “Blade transmit ship wide.” At Blade’s acknowledgment, he continued. “War Captain to crew. Tier one officers and primary shift crew approved to proceed to Ark Station Zeta. Familiarize yourselves with station laws and decontamination procedures prior to attempting to disembark. War Captain out.”

  “Excellent!” Chall slapped Zyriq’s shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Come, War Captain. I have been enclosed in this hunk of metal for far too long.”

  Zyriq allowed himself to be led away by his friend, at the same time scanning the rest of the bridge crew to see who else accompanied them. Several bridge crewmembers handed off their assignments to their replacements.

  Including Pach.

  And he couldn’t think of a reason to deny the younger male access to the station. He was technically a primary shift warrior. He mentally snorted. “Warrior.”

  Zyriq shrugged off thoughts of Pach and the young one’s unsuitability to staff a warship. It was an issue to be addressed when they returned to Morea. Then he could explain the situation to the queen. In small, quiet words. He would never shout in front of a female, but he would be firm.

  They approached the main exit airlock, slowing as they joined the line of departing warriors.

  Chall leaned into Zyriq’s space. “You are War Captain. You could order…”

  Zyriq shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I am a warrior first. More skilled, yes, but I will not take advantage of my position.”

  Chall grunted, his disagreement obvious.

  No matter. Zyriq would not change his mind. He would simply remain in place—Chall in front of him and… He glanced over his shoulder to identify the male at his back and swallowed the snarl that leapt to his lips. Chall led while Pach followed. Perhaps while Chall wasn’t looking, Zyriq would take the opportunity to kill the young male now.

  He sighed. As good as the idea sounded, he knew he would not. Frustration was no reason to end another’s life.

  The line continued to shuffle forward, male after male processed and designated healthy by both Warking’s Blade and the Ark Station Zeta medical scanners. The urge to order his crew aside burned in him, but he resisted the impulse. A War Captain was not above his crew—merely better trained.

  Soon they reached the front of the line, and Chall strode into the decontamination chamber.

  A soft tap to his shoulder had Zyriq looking to Pach once again. He quirked a brow in question and waited for the male to speak. With Chall no longer near, Zyriq did not believe he could hold back any longer.

  “Zyriq, I…” Pach’s voice drifted off. Then he made odd huffing sounds and then… sneezed.

  All over Zyriq’s face.

  Only to do it again.

  And again.

  “Pach…” Zyriq growled at him only to be interrupted by soft buzz. Warking’s Blade’s chamber was empty and waited for the next person to enter its confines. Yet still Pach sneezed, finally stepping out of line as the jolting sensations continued. Before Zyriq stepped forward, he pointed at Pach. “Go to medical. I want you to have a thorough scan before you even attempt to disembark. I will not have the humans of ASZ falling ill because of you.”

  While there were two chambers a Morean had to step through to verify health before being allowed to enter the station, there was no reason not to have a scan done while still on the Warking’s Blade. The frequency and strength of those sneezes…

  The soft buzz came again and Zyriq refocused his attention on what was to come. Scanning and then hunting then… Baila. Already his body reacted to the idea of her. To memories of her hands on his skin.

  Zyriq stepped into the first chamber, placing his feet where indicated and arms stretched wide. A laser slid over his body from head to toe, tracing his skin and clothing, Warking’s Blade searching out any illness. This was such a tiresome process.

  “Access denied.” Warking’s Blade’s voice echoed off the chamber’s walls. “Prepare for transport to medical.”

  “Blade!” Zyriq snarled at the ship. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Illness was detected. War Captain and protocol states—”

  “Illness? What illness?” He felt fine. Healthier than a rutting ruya in spring. He was not ill no matter the ship’s results.

  “Violet Pox, War Captain Zyriq.”

  Violet Pox—one of the few sexually transmitted diseases that a Morean could contract. Yet it was one they could only contract from their own kind.
Zyriq had not enjoyed the body of a female—of any species—since his last visit to ASZ. Even before his time with Baila, he had not laid with a Morean female in more turnings than he could count. Morean females had expectations. So how had he contracted…

  Zyriq glared at the wall, his mind already drawing conclusions. “Blade, has Pach arrived at medical to obtain his scan?”

  “Yes, War Captain.”

  “And the results of his scan?”

  “Positive for Violet Pox, War Captain.”

  The Violet Pox might not kill Pach, but Zyriq would. And he truly meant it this time.

  Chapter 2

  There was only one way for a single woman to survive on Ark Station Zeta—negotiation. From extra rations and a few more shifts to getting someone more threatening than the worst station rats to walk her to her quarters after her shift.

  Baila was an expert at the tenuous balance of flirting and trade. Not that she traded her body, but someone always wanted something, and she had a knack for “procuring” goodies. Unfortunately, her master-level talents decided to take a walk out of an airlock without the benefit of a suit. As evidenced by her boss’ unbending glare.

  Ugh.

  She stood in the boss’ office at the back of the BFE bar—Bumfuck Egypt—and dug deep for some of those dependable skills.

  “There has to be somewhere else you can use me.” Baila softened her tone, eyes wide and lower lip trembling slightly while she pleaded with BFE’s owner. She wasn’t out of the fight yet and she was damned tenacious. He had to let her stick around. Mainly because she hard core needed the money. She wasn’t willing to back down from him—from anyone.

  “Look, Baila, like I told you before… it’s not going to work.” He shook his head. “I mean… look at you.” Disgust warred with awe when he scanned her from head to toe. “Our clients expect a certain type of scenery when they come here for a drink. You aren’t cutting it.”